


Devil-May-Care

by mother_finch



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen, mother-finch fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-24 07:01:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20354323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mother_finch/pseuds/mother_finch
Summary: PROMPT: Hey, I'm watching 3x10 again, and every time I rewatch this episode I think about a scenario where Shaw & Root run into the doctor that told Shaw she would "never be a doctor", you know, the one who is reviewing her conduct in regards to how she notified that family of their fathers death. Like, a scenario in which Shaw is totally badass, but yet in someway shows familiar human emotion, like kissing Root a pregnant Root, or holding their baby, or something like that. Thanks!





	Devil-May-Care

Sameen Shaw is many things she never quite thought she would be. Well, besides being the presumed-dead ISA agent working for an artificial super intelligence, not that she didn't think presumed-dead would be in her portfolio somewhere. No, there are things so far out of the realm of what she once thought feasible, every so often she needs to take a step back and evaluate-- check to see if this is really her life.

"You okay, Sweetie?" Root asks, cutting through Shaw's thoughts with that overly affectionate voice and wide grin.

Shaw looks her over before nodding.

Today is definitely one of those days, appreciating the things she never thought she'd be.

For one thing, she's a dog owner. Bear was never hers originally, but over the years she's more than thrown her hat in the ring of ownership. Even when she was in med school, she hadn't thought pets would be her ideal-- too much babysitting, and too attention hoarding. She realizes now that it's quite the opposite.

Root grabs hold of Shaw's hand, and Shaw gives it a squeeze. No numbers John couldn't handle on his own today, so she decided a nice walk with Bear was a perfect time filler. It's not often they get a day off of work together, though Shaw's been more insistent on Root staying home recently.

For another thing, she's in a relationship. A real one, not a for-the-mission, or a three-night-stand. Ever since the fallout from the Machine and Samaritan clashing, and finding Root and John with the help of a slowly reviving Machine, she'd decided what her feelings were toward Root. She knew before, in a way, but it was a private, almost personal thing. Something she could barely tell herself, let alone Root or the others. But losing her-- _almost for good_\-- tuned the jumbled radio static into a clear symphony. She didn't want to think about a world without Root in it, even if it's only Shaw's own personal bubble of a world.

Root sways at her side, fingers tightening against Shaw's in a way she has come to know means only one thing: _find a bathroom._

"Closest public bathroom's a block away," Shaw says, instinctually mapping out the route along the streets she's walked a million times. "I can grab a coffee on the corner if you can't wait."

"I'll be okay," Root assures her, deep brown eyes shut tight and face full but a little too pale. "It'll pass in a minute."

Root places her free hand over her bulging stomach, steadying her breaths. Shaw knows Root too well to believe it'll pass, and decides they could all use a little break from the afternoon walk anyway.

Another, and probably the most unbelievable of all these things, is that Shaw is going to be a mom. Even thinking the words doesn't click just yet, but she feels the anticipation growing each day. She's not sure she'll be good at it-- _emotions are tricky enough when people _can_ say what's on their minds, let alone when they can't_\-- but Fusco's assured her that this nervousness just proves she'll be great.

_Scratch the previous thought_, Shaw thinks to herself. _The most unbelievable is me accepting advice from Lionel._

Root's vice-like grip strengthens, and Shaw steers them into the coffeeshop.

"We don't have to--"

"I could use something to drink," Shaw interjects, motioning at the barista for her usual as she escorts Root to the bathroom.

"My _hero_," Root coos, some of the flirtation lost from the nausea on her face.

"You want something?"

Root stops in the doorway.

"Considering any and every smell makes me want to die?"

"Right."

Root smiles, sways, then slams the door shut.

Rolling her eyes with a grin, Shaw gives the door a quick knock.

"I'll check for signs of life in ten," Shaw chuckles, then steers Bear toward the counter.

Bear grows excited as they approach the barista, who rounds the counter with a dog treat in hand.

"How's she holding up?" he asks, standing and giving Shaw a cup of black coffee.

"She's been worse," Shaw responds, eyes drifting to the sandwiches and pastries under the counter. "You guys carry barbecue sauce and pickles here?" she asks, eyeing a particularly fat egg salad sandwich.

"I don't like where this is going," he jokes, rummaging behind the counter. Shaw slips a backpack off her shoulders, producing an empty Tupperware container.

"Pickles and barbecue sauce are the kid's new favorite," Shaw says, heart swelling at the mere words. _We're having a kid._ "Can I get that on the egg salad?"

The barista scrunches his nose, but doesn't protest.

"Soy sauce is out?"

"It's sickening to even _say_."

"Then I guess my China Wok lunch runs are over," he replies, dramatically dumping two large handfuls of soy-sauce packets into the trash.

Shaw gives him cash, tells him to keep the change-- _he honestly deserves more for always being in a good mood_\-- and stows the sandwich away before Root catches scent of it.

Stepping away from the counter, Shaw turns to scan for an open table. At a booth tucked off to the side, she spots a guy looming over two small girls, bug-eyed with lips pressed tightly together. One of them searches the other customers, and upon seeing Shaw’s eyes on them, adds an extra cup of pleading in her direction.

_I told Root ten minutes, so I’ve still got some time_. Rolling her shoulders, Shaw walks purposefully over to their table.

“How’s it going over here?” Shaw asks, inserting herself into the scene and cutting the man off mid-sentence.

He turns his red-hot eyes on her, looming at least a foot and a half taller than her with thin fingers more akin to talons.

“We’re busy here,” he mutters to her, warning growl making his papery mustache quiver. She tilts her head, eyes narrowing just so.

“I think you’re busy _leaving_. Don’t you have a doctor’s appointment or something?”

“Who said anything about seeing a doctor?” he huffs, directing his laser-like attention back on the girls. “Weird, bitch.”

Shaw rolls her eyes. _This is what I get for playing nice._ Reaching up and stretching to her tip-toes, Shaw grabs the man by the scruff of his neck, then slams him down face-first into the back of the booth. The girls squeak in surprise but don’t move. There’s a crunch, a muffled groan, and as Shaw lets go, the man’s hands clasp over his gushing nose.

“Looks like you’re gonna need that doctor’s appointment after all,” Shaw tells him, and he gives her a glare that could kill before wincing in pain and rushing from the shop.

Shaw watches him go, then lets her eyes drift around for anyone staring. Only one is: a short, balding man with thick rimmed glasses standing just within the doorway.

She knows who he is, and her muscles coil. There is one thing that Shaw is not-- something she had wanted to be more than anything at one point-- and it's all because of him.

He catches her stare and cocks a thick brow. _Dr. Wilson, it seems I'm not the only one who remembers._

**___ \ If Your Number's Up /___**

After cutting Shaw off on her way to an empty table, Dr. Wilson scanned her for a full two minutes without saying a word.

"I never forget a face, you know, and yours is certainly familiar," he assures her, pointing in her direction. He closes his eyes, locking in on his target.

"Sameen," he blurts, eyes popping open. "Resident at my hospital in oh..." he trails off.

"Oh-five."

"Yes! Precisely it. You've barely changed," he says, tone clearly alluding to the scene he saw unfold at the booth. "Well, save for a pet. Tell me, what made you get one?"

"He's shared between me and some friends." She keeps herself distanced, not feeling generous enough to mirror his cheerful mood.

"Friends, ah? Good, good," he mutters, as if not believing her. It's like he's trying to pick her brain all over again and get at her inner cogs. "I didn't peg you as a social type."

"You didn't peg me as a doctor either."

There it is, the job Shaw had wanted above all. She was the best at what she did, only wanted to be better, and knew that being able to do so would help in a way she couldn't for her father. In a way so many never could, either by not having the technical skill or the discipline to make it that far.

He sighs.

"Sameen, between us, we both know you couldn't make it as a doctor."

She clenches her jaw, fingernails digging into her paper cup and denting it in.

"I was the best resident at that hospital."

"And, unfortunately, the least compassionate. Doctors don't just heal hearts, they need to have one too."

The words make her skin ice cold and her blood boil.

"I saved more people than half the residents in my first quarter _alone_." Her words are biting, and she hopes he can feel them slashing into his skin. Maybe not what someone in the business of helping should hope, but she can't help it.

He puts a hand to his head.

"I can see this still bothers you. Did you take up your residency at another hospital?"

She gives him a cross look.

"Like you _didn't_ let anyone in the area know your opinion of me," she spits, then sighs. "I went into the marines."

"Ah, far more fitting for someone of... your neurology."

The bathroom door opens, and Root steps out, the rosy color back in her cheeks. She peers around for Shaw, and her smile falters at the sight of the stranger. She starts forward cautiously, eyeing him up and down. Her gaze flickers over Shaw, needing no more than a second to gauge Shaw's sour mood.

"Hey, honey, who's your new friend?" She stands at Shaw's side, stance defiant and eyes daring him to step out of line.

He looks from Shaw to Root and back.

"You two are...?"

"Together?" Root finishes, the edge in her tone cold enough to send shivers down Shaw's spine. "Problem?"

"No," he replies shakily, eyes darting between Root and Shaw. He seems fearful, but Shaw gets the sense it's not so much _of_ Root as it is _for_ Root.

He clears his throat, focusing his full attention on Root.

"You do know she's... different, right?"

"Last I recall, different isn't really a bad thing."

"She's a little screwy herself," Shaw adds, met with a playful nudge from Root. Dr. Wilson doesn't find this amusing.

"My dear, she has a problem empathizing. An absolute _lack_ of it."

The muddied conversations of nearby customers dampen, and Shaw's shoulders tense.

"I've never met a _neurotypical_ person with that sense of apathy. I can see you're expecting, but do you really want someone like _that_," he gestures to Shaw, "around a _child_?"

"Considering she's the most loyal and trustworthy person I've ever met?" Root counters, slipping her hand into Shaw's. "I can't picture anyone _better_."

The conversation around them has ceased entirely, and Shaw's ears burn like hot coals. Dr. Wilson looks at Root with bewilderment, then turns on Shaw brimming with malice.

"Why are you doing this?" he asks, almost like a parent scolding a disrespectful child.

"Doing what?" She narrows her eyes.

"I know you don't feel like others, but I never pegged you on _manipulation_, especially not to this extent. I really thought you _knew_ better."

"Who said anything about manipulation?" Shaw asks, voice cold and distant but mind running hotter than the sun. She could shoot his kneecaps out right now, if not for knowing the barista would be responsible for the cleanup. "You'd be surprised what happens when you don't assume the worst in someone you know nothing about."

Root gives her hand a squeeze, and Shaw's first thought is escorting her back to the bathroom; however, just before Shaw begins steering her away, she sees the cocky smirk on Root's features from the corner of her eye. Shaw stands her ground, giving Root a quick squeeze in return.

"I see," the doctor sighs at last, casting one last weary eye at Root. It's as if he’s giving her a final warning of Shaw's true form, but Root isn't concerned. "It was... nice catching up," he mumbles, directing his gaze to the counter and starting past them.

Shaw doesn't bother with a goodbye, opting to rush the coffee shop's double doors like they're the pearly gates and the smog-ridden city is her personalized heaven. She gives Root a quick one-over, making sure she looks well enough to go, then-- with Root peering at her curiously-- she kisses her, letting her know everything's fine. As she pushes through the doors, finally able to suck in a full breath, she hears the barista at the counter.

"Wrong move, man. Her girlfriend might be pregnant, but she's still scary as hell."

Shaw can't help but chuckle, the tension flowing from her bones and muscles uncoiling in the warmth of the sun. Peering up at Root, she can't help but smile.

_Scary as hell?_ She thinks to all their missions. _He couldn't be more right._

**___\ We'll Find You /___**

Shaw methodically cleans the barrel of her gun, the other polished pieces sitting on the coffee table. Even with her focus on her hands, she can't help but let her attention wander to Root. She's got those crazy bunny slippers on for only God knows why-- _I've only worn my pair for her _once_, and it was a rare occasion_\-- and her feet are propped up on the table. She has her left hand resting on her stomach, painting her nails a glossy black with her right.

Shaw soaks in the moment, loving these small spaces between missions that they have to themselves. Sure, nothing beats knocking together a few skulls and taking out some knee caps, but she's come to understand that even the quiet moments can be spellbinding.

_We're not going to have any quiet much longer, not that we really did to begin with._ Shaw knows Root is not the type to stay at home-- she'd never expect her to be-- but raising a child isn't really a mission they've had before. She knows they're not alone in this: John's already calling himself uncle per his own volition, Harold's acquired a collection of books and baby brain-teasers in a child-proofed corner of the subway, and Fusco's more than excited at the prospect of babysitting.

They always say it takes a village, but Shaw never realized the village would be criminals, assassins, and a reformed dirty cop.

_At least our girl will have an array of talents._

_Our girl,_ the words roll around in her mind like the melody to her favorite song. _Our girl._

Root shifts at Shaw's side, stomach starting to rumble.

"Need a bite?" Shaw asks before Root can say anything. Root gives her a warm smile, tilting her head Shaw's way and letting her dark ringlets of hair spill over her shoulder.

"I could use a little something."

Without hesitation, Shaw heads to the fridge and back, carrying a Tupperware container with her as she plops back down on the couch.

"How does an egg salad sandwich with pickles and barbecue sauce sound?"

Root's eyes light up at the words, and she looks ready to tear the container from Shaw's hands before she can even open it.

"Absolutely _divine_," Root replies, grabbing the sandwich and taking a large bit. Shaw watches her savor the, at least in her mind, disgusting combination, and can't help but smile. "You didn't make this, did you?"

"I got it at the Pause Café earlier; figured you'd want it eventually."

Root's eyes gush with affection as she slides Shaw's way and rests her head on Shaw's lap. The smell of the sandwich makes her nose scrunch, but some sacrifices are just worth making.

"That man you were talking to earlier--"

"Dr. Wilson."

"Dr. Wilson, he doesn't know what he's talking about."

"Knowing's kind of his job."

Root shakes her head, shoveling in another bite.

"Not about this. Not about _you_."

"I'm worried too, Root."

"You shouldn't be." Root gives Shaw a faux-stern glare that easily melts back into a doting smile. "I fell in love with you because you're _exactly_ who you are, and I wouldn't change a thing."

Shaw's ears burn, the flustered flames spreading to her cheeks, and she has to avert her eyes. _Emotions will never get easier, will they?_

She puts her hand on Root's shoulder in response, thumb running circles across her shirt collar. Root shifts, a surprised breath on her lips, and Shaw turns back to her, eyes immediately scanning for anything that could be wrong. She's smiling, but not looking at Shaw any longer.

"She's kicking," she tells Shaw, excitement in every syllable. Root grabs Shaw's hand off her shoulder, placing it atop her stomach. Sure enough, after only a second Shaw feels the movement, and her heart flutters in an odd way she can't quite place. As uncertain as she is about becoming a parent, she can't deny she's excited. She knows Root can't wait to hold her in her arms, and Shaw'd be lying if she said she wasn't her own content form of impatient. _Everyone's just so excited to meet you._

Sameen Shaw is many things she never quite thought she would be, but she wouldn't give up being any of them for the world. Every so often she thinks back to those simulations with Samaritan, and it always leads to the infinite lives Root always says the Machine sees them living. One single drop of water different, and an endless flow of ocean waves crash in endless ways. It's hard to wrap her head around, but she knows that She can see it-- She might even watch them through, picking apart all the ways things would be different, and the ways they'd be the same.

Shaw wonders if somewhere, in any of those simulations, Dr. Wilson hadn't turned her away. Somewhere, in some lifetime of ones and zeros, she's a doctor, and the world she knows didn’t happen this way. She'd told Root before that she thought none of them truly has the life they wanted, but she's found that-- while many events were rather unsavory-- she wouldn't want any other life. Let those Shaws in those simulations be doctors, running around a hospital. _Hell, they might even like that life_, but she knows it's only because they've never experienced this one. This one, with it's twists and turns unlike anything she'd ever expected. As uncertain as she is with the road ahead, she knows beyond any doubt in her mind, that no simulation could ever be as perfect as this, as them, as now.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!! Thank you so so much for the prompt, I absolutely loved it. I recently watched that episode, and it’s always a bummer because you can see how bad she wanted to do it, just to get shut down on the spot.
> 
> I really hope you liked this! I know there’s not much bad-assery (my apologies, I worked on this during a long car ride, and without internet I couldn’t get back to the prompt to make sure I hit all the bases. There’s sass, but I’m not sure how much bad ass *sigh*) I do hope you enjoyed this regardless.
> 
> Thanks again so much!


End file.
